Regina's Reflections in Emma's Bedroom
by queerfemme
Summary: What happened while Regina was sitting on Emma's bed while Henry slept? Missing scenes from Child of the Moon. First chapter set immediately before Regina wakes Henry from his realm-transcending nightmare. Eventually including Henry versus Leroy, whack-a-mole, Hansel, Gretel, & Grace, Mad Woodsman (Jefferson/Michael), and Swan-Queen sexy fun times. Overall very fluffy.
1. Chap 1 (Regina Reflects on Emma's Bed)

She wasn't surprised by his phone call, unsettling as it had been: she had felt him develop a subtle kind of trust in her when she destroyed her love to save Henry. She knew he was too intimately aware of what loss was to not understand her desperation when she screamed at him to save Daniel: he had understood her, just enough to trust her now with his sleeping grandson, laying completely vulnerable in his daughter's bed.

She was unsurprised by his phone call. She was prepared to move mountains to help her son, and she was in the car in under a minute, starting the engine before they ended their hurried conversation.

She was prepared to lay her life down for Henry.

She was not prepared to spend the early hours of dawn sitting in her hated stepdaughter's apartment, watching her son sleep in the bed that she had taken his other mother on time after time when Mary Margaret was out for the evening (her affair with David had proven... useful).

She was not prepared to have time to actually look around the place, full to the brink of nausea with images of birds and flowers, so much of Snow White - including her innocent arrogance - having inadvertently stayed with Mary Margaret through the curse.

Ms. Swan - she couldn't even bring herself to think of her as - E - no - her first name was too... painful, too real, too human. Too close. Ms. Swan hadn't bothered to change much of the decor, leaving most of Mary Margaret's things in order, but Regina could see where bits of Emma's life remained scattered across the open room.

Her baby blanket. The blonde tried so hard to not appear sentimental, but as Regina cautiously lifted the infant's garment to her face to try and catch of whiff of the woman who had refused to let her die, she realized that they both struggled and failed in that regard. And in so many others.

Her blue leather jacket. Tossed carelessly in the corner. Regina could not lift that to her face. Too many memories of yanking it off the blonde. Too many memories of leaving it on while she fucked her hard and fast, leaving lipstick on her face and bite marks on her breasts. Tears and saliva on her cunt.

A book. A ragged copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_, poking out from underneath the bed. Surely Mary Margaret would not be so careless with her books. This must be - _hers_. Sure enough, as she opened the yellowing pages silently to the sound of Henry's so far calm breathing, a faint smile crossed Regina's lips as her eyes feasted on the younger woman's untidy scrawl, her name written on the dog-eared pages, tears and fierce underlines marking Holden's description of saving the children in danger of falling off a cliff. Almost idly, Regina wondered at what age Emma had made those marks, had shed those tears.

A red thong sticking clumsily out of the top drawer. This time Regina allowed herself a fuller smile, momentarily allowing herself to slip into the memory of first seeing her adversary-lover in that pair of underwear, shameless and wide-eyed in the face of Regina's bald-faced threats for her to leave town. She terrified her. Henry loved her; she loved what Henry loved. This reckless woman with no roots longer than two years and a keychain was not to be allowed in, not to be permitted closeness. It was too dangerous.

Her smile had faded. Her heart ached. But, she registered numbly, at least that meant she felt something.

As Henry's breathing quickened and she turned her attention more fully to him, Daniel's voice, unbidden and unexplained, cast shadows into her eyes and a shudder in her heart, whispered in the depths of her body, "Then love again." Ms. Swan - _Emma_ - was inventive, adaptive, clever. Brave. She would be safe, would return, would... save her (again). Her only priority now could be Henry. Was Henry.

She shook her head and woke her son, all thoughts of her own experiences in this very bed - and living room, and kitchen counter, and bathroom floor - were slammed unceremoniously from her mind. Her son - _their son?_ - woke and her heart lurched at seeing the fear in his young eyes.

She wasn't surprised by the phone call. But she was extremely grateful.


	2. Chap 2 (Regina Comforts Henry)

"Henry, what were you dreaming about?" she interrogated sternly, desperately trying to control the panic stirring in her stomach. Henry hesitated, mesmerized with fear, terrified and captivated by his hand. "Honey, I need to know," she said, more softly, realizing that she'd spoken too harshly, just as she'd grabbed his hand too fiercely. _If you hold onto someone too hard, that doesn't make them love you._ She softened her grip and her voice even further, almost whispering to match Henry's rapid breath. "It's alright, honey. You're awake now. I'll protect you." He glanced at her through his wide eyes, wanting to believe but still full of fear and resentment. "You're safe now, honey. Now tell me about your dream, if you can."

"I - I don't know. It's always the same. There - there was this red room, with curtains. But the curtains are on fire, and I - I - "

Henry trailed off, breathing too heavily to continue his description. He was trembling and Regina drew him to her, one hand on his wrist above his burn and her other hand sweeping around his side, collecting him into her chest. He tensed at the gesture at first, having grown accustomed to withdrawing from her touch as though it were fire. But he knew what real fire was now, and it wasn't this woman, whose lips were murmuring kisses and gentle hushes into his hair as her thumb swiped up and down the side of his belly.

"Shh, I know, Henry," she breathed into his hair. "You don't have to finish telling me yet."

"But," she heard his voice muffled by her breasts, and he withdrew from her, though gently, not breaking her hold on him. He looked into her face. "But how did I get burned? David said it was only a dream. It _was_ only a dream, right? Right, Mom?"

She registered the term with a twitch to her lips and a surge of light flooding into her eyes. She delighted in his seeking safety, reassurance, from her, the woman he had taught himself to hate. _Whom she had lied to and threatened and belittled so much he had no choice but to hate_, she chided herself. She only wished she had the reassurance she sought.

"I don't know, sweetie. I don't know how you got burned, or what your dream was, or what it means. But I know someone who will." She looked at him with meaning.

"Mr. Gold," he said simply, with the same questioning confidence with which his mother had stated Gold's name, those first few moments after she believed in the curse, those desperate moments immediately following Regina's realization that her attempts to silence the threat from the woman she loved and loved to despise might just destroy the one thing she could never despise.

Yanking herself back to the present, Regina allowed herself a small smile at her son's intuition. "Very good, Henry," she smiled, gently stroking his chin with the back of her index finger. She smoothly reached for her phone, and as it dialed, she told him gently, "Mr. Gold will have to see your burn. But I'll fix it right up for you as soon as he leaves, alright?"

Henry nodded, his breathing regulating. Regina made to rise from the bed, but Henry grabbed the hand that was still gracing his side. His eyes grew wide and she sat back down, drawing him close to her yet again.


	3. Chap 3 (What Regina Smells Like)

It shocked Henry even more than it had pleasantly surprised Regina when he grabbed her hand, clamping it back onto his side when she had made as if to rise from the bed to talk to Mr. Gold on the phone. He didn't know what to make of the woman - _the Evil Queen!_ - but he knew he wanted her near him right now.

David had explained to him that Regina had loved the man who tried to strangle him. Daniel. That she had let Daniel go to save Henry, to save the town, even though all she'd wanted to do was be reunited with him. This morning, he saw the remnants of Daniel in her eyes; the ghosts of raw pain, of fear, of heightened difficulty controlling herself, her emotions. Her rages and her fears.

Maybe that new understanding was why he gripped her hand tightly to him, begging her with his motion to stay next to him. Maybe hearing her scream as he ran out of the stables, screaming for David to not hurt Daniel - _I don't know how to love very well - _had made him feel closer with her. A little safer.

Whatever the case, he surprised himself when he held her to him, and surprised himself even more when he took a deep comfort in being gathered back into her chest, deeply inhaling her apple-cinnamon scent and registering vaguely how Emma's cinnamon-vanilla scent complemented the brunette's.

"Gold?" He heard his mother's clipped tone, so different than the gentle one she'd been using to address him.

He heard her sneer while listening to the response, but this time, recognized it as a defense rather than an aggression, as her hand subtly twitched on his side.

"I'm not interested in your gloating, Rumple. Henry had a nightmare and woke up with a burn on his hand. I need you to come over here at once and help him."

He felt her body stiffen in surprise, and he withdrew from her enough to glance up at her face. She slowly snapped her phone shut and looked down at him, eyebrows raised.

"He said he'll be right over. Funny, I expected more of a fuss."

Henry tilted his head thoughtfully, then twitched one corner of his mouth into a frown: a look he'd acquired from his blonde mother. He was proud of have perfected it. "He's probably just happy to make you owe him something. Maybe you shouldn't have cal - "

"Don't be ridiculous, Henry," Regina interrupted, firmly but softly, her eyebrows returning from their trip up her forehead as she lifted up his injured hand much more gently than she'd originally grasped it, examining it lightly. "He'll know what this means, honey. He can help make it better."

There was a silence. Henry considered the possible price of Mr. Gold's help and frowned again. He took a deep breath. Regina waited silently, looking at him intently, shifting her ass so she could swing her legs onto the bed, crossing them and holding Henry's hands gingerly across her lap. He hadn't seen her sit like that since they used to tell each other stories at bedtime and play board games every Saturday night. Before Mary Margaret gave him his book.

"It was so scary, Mom."

Her face screwed up in sympathy as she nodded and as her thumbs stroked the backs of his hands.

"Mom."

She smiled at the endearment.

"Yes, Henry?"

"Do you ever have bad dreams?"

The smile left her eyes even more quickly than it left her lips as she considered his question. He immediately regretted asking.

"Sorry, I - "

"No no, Henry, it's fine," his mother murmured, pushing hair out of his face and considering him, trying not to remember what he looked like standing at the top of the stairs, a noose in his arms.

"I do have nightmares. Often. I know how frightening they can be." She paused as he waited, silently eager for her to tell him more. She didn't oblige, but instead surprised him again by saying, almost too softly for him to hear, "I'm sorry I made your life a nightmare for so long."

Henry opened his mouth to respond - not knowing what he would say, though he certainly felt he had to say something - but was interrupted by a sharp, efficient rap on the door. Regina gracefully swung her legs off the bed and rose rapidly. She looked down at him. "Okay?" she asked. He nodded, full of fear. Rumplestilskin scared him even more than Regina did (_had?_). Intuiting his fear, Regina put her hand on his shoulder briefly. "I'm here. I'll protect you, and whatever price he asks, I will pay it. Don't worry, Henry."

She didn't give him a chance to respond as she crossed the room in a few brief strides, opening the door to her teacher and enemy.


	4. Chap 4 (Gold & Chocolate Chip Pancakes)

"Your Majesty," Henry heard him mock at the door. Uncharacteristically, Regina remained silent and simply stepped back to let him in, gesturing towards where she instinctively knew Henry had padded, to a chair in front of the counter.

"Ah, young Henry." Gold swept into the room. "I hear you had a bad dream. Tell me about it, son."

Regina cleared her throat loudly and stepped forward. Henry felt the rage seeping from her. Gold barely spared a glance for her as he countered with subtle hatred, "A mere figure of speech."

Henry stared at his mother, realizing that she no longer gave Emma that glare when the blonde called Henry her son. Not for the first time, Henry indulged himself in the fantasy of his mothers coming to love each other. He shook his head rapidly as though to remove water lodged in his ears, and set about telling Mr. Gold about his nightmare, in as much detail as he could. Regina silently watched both of them, keeping silent, stiff vigil next to Henry. He was scared, but somehow still somewhat calmed by her presence and proximity.

When he finished his explanation, Mr. Gold merely murmured, "I see. And can you show me that burn your mother mentioned, please, Henry?"

Henry complied and soon felt his heart sink in terror as Mr. Gold explained that it was no mere nightmare that he was having. Henry's old anger towards his mother flared up as she coldly talked to her former teacher about her utter lack of concern for the victims of her sleeping curse: victims that were supposed to include Emma, but instead, included him. But the softness in her voice and sincerity in her eyes when she murmured, more to Henry than to Gold, "until now," somehow softened Henry's heart again.

He found himself confused by the affection in Gold's voice and eyes as he leaned forward and explained the nature of fear and control to him; felt a mixture of shock, dread, and relief as he told Regina she needn't pay for the necklace; and a calming sensation when Regina reflexively placed her hand back on Henry's shoulder as Gold turned to re-collect his things.

"So," Henry began, urged by the subtle sense of safety he felt with Regina standing a mere inch behind him, "the necklace will make me know I'm dreaming? So I don't think I'm going to - to - "

Mr. Gold turned as he snapped his case shut. "To die, yes. You're very perceptive, young Henry. Yes, you will know you are dreaming, so you have no reason to fear dying." He anticipated the question about to emerge from Regina's mouth as Henry felt her fill her lungs behind him. "And no, this won't prevent you from being burnt again, but as I said. If you are in control, you will have nothing to fear. If you have nothing to fear, you'll be less likely to have - ah - an accident."

He swept his case off the table and strode to the door. "Good day, Henry. Your Majesty."

He was gone.

Both mother and son took a deep breath in and sighed loudly. Henry glanced up at his mother, still standing behind him, and giggled at the simultaneity. Her face broke into a full smile for the first time since she had seen him emerging from the mines in his other mother's arms. She even allowed a small sound to escape her throat, which Henry interpreted as her attempt at giggling for the first time in a very long time.

They held each others' eyes for a moment, before Regina reached down and took his burned hand into hers. "Hold still now, Henry," she murmured. "I'm going to use magic."

Henry's eyes widened and he stepped away instinctively, still feeling the tightened grip of enchanted tree branches around his torso and arms.

Regina's eyes flickered apologetically. "I promise you, honey, I will only heal your hand. Nothing more. Please trust me."

Her son stared into her imploring eyes, recalling that Ruby had reported seeing Regina leaving Dr. Hopper's office with swollen, wet eyes after Daniel had died again. He saw a faint wetness in them now, and he stepped back towards her, nodding, holding out his singed hand.

She gave him another small smile - _she's going to break some records today! _- and gracefully ran her hands in a tunnel above and below his. A sizzling sound crackled softly throughout the room as Henry felt the pain recede. He flipped his hand awkwardly to see, and the flesh was thoroughly mended: not even a scar. He smiled wide.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Her beaming smile was his answer.

His belly roared.

"Hey, uh, Mom? I'm kind of hungry. Do you think we can go to Granny's for breakfast?"

Regina hesitated. "I think Ruby and Granny are helping David with something this morning, honey. Maybe I can make you something here?"

Henry deflated a little, but he nodded.

"I can make you chocolate chip pancakes and hot cocoa with cinnamon," Regina offered, her voice hopeful. Henry looked up at her, slacked jawed, brow furrowed.

"But - " he protested.

Regina shook her head. "Don't think I don't know what you order when you're out with - " her eyes searched his face and saw the need he had for her to use the blonde's name without disdain - "Emma," she said gently, pronouncing both syllables with care. "And I know it's not Sunday today, but I think we can have Pancake Sunday today anyway, don't you? You deserve it, my brave little prince."

The endearment had slipped out before she could stop it. They both froze, made suddenly awkward by the reminder that she was the Evil Queen and he was, technically, a prince.

Instead of pursuing it, Henry smiled mischievously, dragging a chair to stand on and reach into a cabinet where he rummaged, to Regina's bemusement, for chocolate chips. "I know she keeps them in here somewhere... Here they are!"

He emerged victorious, bag of chocolate chips in his exultant arm.

Regina gulped as he climbed down from the chair and sat on the very counter over which she had bent Emma time and time again, munching chocolate chips with a satisfied, victorious smirk of contentment on his face that so closely resembled the blonde's that her heart nearly burst.

After a very terrifying start, it was going to be a good morning.


	5. Chap 5 (In Which Regina Feels Things)

There was an awkward silence between mother and son as whisk scraped bowl, batter met hot oil, spatula skated across pan, pancake sizzled as it neared completion. Henry sat, still working on his handful of chocolate chips, regarding his mother as he chewed, head tilted to the side. For him, the silence was somewhat uncomfortable but more companionable than he had expected. He was deep in thought.

For Regina, the silence occupied the void of happiness that mashes together agony and perfection, dread of self and of rejection, hope of redemption and of forgiveness. The swift workings of her hands across the stovetop was a balm for her, a calming sense of familiarity in this space that she had previously only associated with hatred and with fucking.

She felt Henry's eyes on her and registered the uncanny sense that her lover, too, could also see her through his eyes, the desperate and desperately masked eyes of a child long-since abandoned and recently found. She bent to gather strawberries out of her nemesis's fridge: evidently, David had at least found time to go grocery shopping for her son. Or perhaps Ruby had brought food home for him. Regardless. She tried not to reflect on how cutting into her son's favorite fruit produced a substance that was at once too much like blood and also too thin, too devoid of substance, to be actually mistaken for the life giving (and taking) fluid.

Regina finished arranging the strawberry halves around his stack of pancakes to look like the animated rays of a chocolate chip sun. She jumped as she put his plate down on the table: catching a glimpse of the photograph on the counter of her lover and of the woman who helped her mother kill her first lover had startled her. There were no photographs of the blonde in her own bedroom, and Regina, as her heart settled and she tried to act casually in the face of Henry's inquisitive stare, idly wondered why that was.

"Mom?" Henry asked as she stirred his cocoa. She heart - what was left of it - still sang whenever her addressed her as such, and she angled her face to be able to watch him as she spooned homemade whipped cream she had found in the refrigerator onto his drink, sprinkling on cinnamon and desperately trying not to think of the woman who always tasted like cinnamon, lust, and whiskey.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?"

It wasn't the question she was expecting.

"Henry," she answered, placing his cocoa in front of him and sitting down, bemused, "if there were anything in this house free of sugar, I might consider it, but seeing as - "

He interrupted her, holding up a forkful of un-syruped sun-ray strawberries to her mouth. An unbidden image of Emma offering her a french fry at Granny's, eye brow cocked and smirk on her face, came to mind. Regina blinked and her son was before her, brow slightly furrowed and expression determined.

Haltingly, Regina leaned forward and, as daintily as she could, slid the strawberry halves off of his fork and into her mouth.

Henry gave her a small smile and he stood up. She made to follow him but he held up his hand.

"No. You always get me everything. I'm going to give you breakfast. Um. If you want some, I mean. Mary Margaret has the same cereal that you eat sometimes, and I can put strawberries in it for you. Um... would you like that? Because if you don't want anything, I won't, but if you do... um... yeah."

Regina swallowed, her eyes cautious but sparkling.

"Henry, that's very sweet of you, and it sounds lovely, but I'm perfectly capable of - "

"No, I know you are. But Emma told me this word - um - mis - um - misojenny - and that's where boys expect girls to do everything for them because one time I didn't say thank you when Ruby brought me my hot chocolate and she made me promise to never be that way so I'm not going to be that. I'm 10, so I'm not allowed to use the stove, but I can make cereal for you."

He recited this quickly and awkwardly, his face turned away from her, talking more to the bowl of cereal and the strawberries whose leaves he was sporadically plucking out of the red fruity flesh than to his mother.

Regina's lips had parted while he spoke, and she found that she was blinking more than she normally found herself doing. An unwanted heat was pooling between her legs that she desperately tried to quash.

"_Emma _taught you about misogyny, honey?" she queried. Henry turned.

"Are you okay, Mom? Your voice sounds kind of funny."

Regina blinked again and shook her head slightly as though trying to get water out of her ears. "I'm fine, dear," she said with more of her usual clip. "I'm just shocked to learn that Sheriff Swan has a handle on such a big word."

Henry frowned deeply, putting her cereal and orange juice down in front of her rather more roughly than he'd intended. Regina's face softened, recognizing her error.

"Henry, I - "

"No!" he whined, suddenly angry. He plopped down into his seat, frustrated. "I don't understand you. You say you love me and you want to protect me, but then you keep making fun of Emma, and fighting with her, and you cursed everyone but that wasn't enough so you framed Mary Margaret and made Sidney kidnap Mrs. Nolan and then you locked Sidney up for it, and you tried to poison Emma and now you said you want to redeem yourself but I don't know how to believe it because you aren't trying to get Emma and Mary Margaret back and you're still being mean about Emma even though she might be dead or something!"

He finished, eyes wet with tears, his voice having broken and his hands trembling, still grasping the spoon he had brought to the table for her.

There was a long silence, broken only by his sniffling, as Regina regarded him with wide eyes. When his finally swiveled up to lock defiantly into hers, she started, softly, slowly, "You're right, Henry. I shouldn't have said that about - about _Emma_. And I shouldn't have done all those things that I did. All I ever wanted was to protect you - "

"No, all you ever wanted was to destroy everyone's happiness! You didn't know about me when you cast the curse! I wasn't even born yet, so you couldn't have wanted to protect me! And you loved your dad, but you killed him, and I want to feel safe with you and I've been trying to trust you, but then the old you just comes out like when you make fun of Emma, and so I want you to tell me what it means to love me! You loved your dad, you named me after him, but what happens if I stand in your way too? What happens when Emma comes home? Are you going to kill her because she's a threat to you keeping me? What if _I_ stand in your way? Will you kill me too? What does your love mean, Mom? I don't understand! It's not about protecting me. So what is it? I've been hurt too, but I don't do what you do. Help me understand you, Mom. I can't trust you until you do."

Henry ground to a halt, winded. These were the questions she had been expecting, but that didn't make them any easier to hear. Or to answer. Regina's heart felt as contorted and wrenched to pieces as it had when Daniel had asked her to let him go, when her mother told her she could never go anywhere without the king, when she saw Henry's dead body laying on that god damned hospital bed. She reminded herself to breathe.

"Henry," she began. A single tear ran down her cheek, and she inwardly cursed at herself for letting him see it. She watched him stare as it ran down her face, dripped off her cheek, down to where it splashed and burned on her hand, tightly grasping her thigh as if for support, though she was sitting down. She tried again.

"Henry, I don't have any answers for you. I think - I - you know about - about Daniel. You know about true love. I think something broke inside of me, Henry. My mother had been horrible to me for all of my life, but that? And I spent so long, Henry, so long, being kind to Snow, protecting her from the truth, the truth that she was responsible for his death, that her life existed because his heart had been crushed. I kissed him, Henry." Tears were running thick and fast down her face. Henry looked faintly alarmed, but calm, braced, concentrating, needing her to continue, his unblinking eyes gazing unrelentingly into hers. _So much like his mother. _He leaned forward without breaking eye contact and touched her hand, stroking the back of her wrist with his thumb, as she had done for him. It steadied her, encouraged her to keep going, as she knew he needed her to. "I kissed him after she killed him. I thought - I thought true love would make him breathe again. But I was wrong. Maybe I never knew how to love. Maybe I didn't love him enough. Maybe that's why the kiss didn't work. Whatever it was, Henry, I..."

She looked down at his hand, unable to bear anymore of his eye contact. He gently broke into her silence. "I read the book, Mom. I know all about that magic. If there's no heart anymore... even true love can't bring back the dead, Mom. It wasn't a sleeping curse, it was death. That's not your fault." She glanced up at him. "But it wasn't Snow White's fault either, Mom. She was my age when she broke her promise to you. That's not fair."

Regina bit her lip, nodding to herself as though having a conversation that Henry couldn't hear. He didn't know what to do. He thought of what Emma did when he watched her comfort Ashley all those nights he had gone with her to visit Ash - Cinderella - and the baby, when Sean couldn't be home. Trying to mimic Emma, he sat quietly, stroked his mother's thumb, and waited.

"Maybe it's not, Henry. But I'm the Evil Queen! I have killed so many people, Henry. Destroyed so many lives. But you can't hate me, not fully. Because I'm your mother, Henry. You know better than anyone how impossible it can be to really hate your mother. And I do, Henry, I hate her, just like I know a part of you hates me. But she is still my mother, that horrible, evil woman. It is so much easier to hate Snow than to hate her fully. Do you understand?"

Henry's brow furrowed as he considered her offering. "I think so. But... you haven't answered any of my questions."

Regina nodded, tears staining her vest. "I want to be a different person, Henry. I know my word doesn't mean much, but I destroyed Daniel so that you would be safe. All I've ever wanted was to hold him again, Henry, but I hurt him so you would be safe. And I have been looking for - for them, Henry, you need to believe me. I kept that evil book - my mother's book - I kept it, locked away, only so that I can look through it to try to find spells that can open a portal. I've been talking to the men in this town who used to be in my army, sending them into the forest to look for anything that has magical traces so that we can make a portal. I've been having no success: I have no idea where to really begin. I haven't told you any of this because I didn't want to get your hopes up, and I haven't told David because I don't think he would believe me that I could try with no ulterior motives. Maybe he would now, I don't know. I have been trying, Henry, but you are my first priority, so all you've seen of me relates to you, not to - to them. And I would never hurt you, Henry. Never. I let you leave, didn't I? And I saved you in the stables, no matter how much it hurt me. My love means something different now than it used to, Henry. It's hard but I'm - I'm learning how to love again. And it will be better this time. You'll see. Please."

She wasn't sure what she was asking him for, but she was dimly aware that she was begging him.

Henry sat in silence. He wished for Emma's superpower, but his desire to believe the woman all but weeping in front of him - the woman whose pancakes were filling his nostrils with scents of times past, when they had a tense but thoroughly loving relationship - was overpowering. He nodded, throat tightening, his own tears matching hers.

"Okay," he nodded, continuously. "But what about Emma?"

Regina started. "What about her?" she asked quickly, her face flushed. Henry looked confused by her alarm.

"I mean, you won't hurt her, right? Because the last time you talked to her before I got sick, you tried to curse her. Remember? The apple turnover?" He still looked confused by the widening of her eyes and the sudden alertness of her body when he uttered his other mother's name.

"Of course I won't hurt her, Henry," Regina said, her business tone slipping back into the gentleness with which she caressed his name. She looked anywhere but Henry, but that was the wrong plan, only able to see the blonde's naked or nearly naked body sprawled out on the various surfaces around them, as it began to dawn on the Queen that she might have been having more than a hate-sex power-trip fling with her son's birth mother. She was beginning to register a deep affection - full of gentle protectiveness and unbridled, intense passion, a desire to give and receive love rather than detached lust and cold, sexualized anger, a desire to control the uncontrollable - when she recalled their dalliances, the taste of the blonde's kiss, the sound of her moans, and the feel of her writhing, burning skin. _No_, she insisted with all the strength she had. _Yes_, that still, small voice intoned, more powerfully, deeper within her. Her heart melted and hardened at the same time, as the heat that filled her core burned and froze simultaneously. She felt dizzy and, worse, she felt Henry scrutinizing this war on her face.

"Mom, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

Regina forced herself to focus on Henry's face and the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine, honey. It's just... hard as this may be for you to believe, I'm fond of - of _Emma _- as well. And I... I'm looking forward to trying out this new way of showing it when she returns. She will return, Henry. David will find a way. Or I will. Or they will. She won't stop until she's back here with you. So please, don't worry so much. She - your mother - wouldn't want you to."

She desperately tried to steer him away from her own emotions and back into his own, so that those thoughtful eyes could analyze how much he missed Emma rather than why Regina so suddenly seemed to.

"But how do we know they're even alive?" he asked, despairing.

"I know they are, Henry." Reassuming her more comfortable position as care-taker, Regina touched his chin with her hand, gently lifting his face to look at hers, giving him a small smile. "I can feel it. Now, let's eat our breakfast before your pancakes get too cold and my cereal gets even soggier."

She ruffled his hair briefly, affectionately, with hands shaking too subtly for him to register but so strongly she was grateful he was still holding her spoon, and to her immense relief, he wrinkled his nose in silent pleasure rather than flinching away from the Evil Queen's touch.

Regina - lacking her lover's superpower - didn't know that Henry's heart had burst with pleasure when she had said she was fond of Emma, when she called the blonde his mother, that he had only asked her how she knew they were alive to see if she would answer in any way similar to how David had answered that question. He and Snow were the fairy tale - _pun!_ - image of true love, so if Regina also spoke of being able to feel Emma's life across realms... There might be hope for the Savior saving the Evil Queen yet.

Henry smiled as he devoured his pancakes.


	6. Ch 6 (Regina's Flashback to Sexy Times)

***TRIGGER WARNING* THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ROUGH SEX AND KNIFE PLAY. It's consensual, but please skip the flash-back/Regina's memory in italics (starting with "Mom?" it's a safe read) if that is triggering for you and/or if it's just not your thing. Don't worry, fluffier Emma/Regina sexy times will also occur eventually. 3 **

_Her skin burned as she wrenched the blonde's jacket off her shoulders, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the younger woman's skin as she yanked the worn red leather down to her elbows, where the effort was thwarted by the bend of the Sheriff's arms, tangled in the mayor's hair as she used the older woman's mouth to stifle her groans. _

Fine_, she thought._ If that's how she wants to play, refusing to submit and be disrobed, she will simply have to suffer the consequences.

_Without warning, Regina broke their kiss, spinning Emma around, leaning her over the bathroom sink and tugging roughly on her half-off jacket, securing the blonde's hands helplessly behind her. Regina backed away slightly so that Emma couldn't lean against her, couldn't use her weight for support, could feel the heat of her body but not draw help from it. She reveled in the younger woman's ecstatic groans and uncontrolled thrusting of her hips into the nothingness in which Regina was torturously keeping her suspended._

_"Regina..." Emma's voice cracked with lust and desperate need, and the crashing of her own name, escaping the lips of this... this woman... into her ears sent impossible heat into Regina's core, threatening to break her control of the blonde, her ability to maintain distance, her seeming composure at having this woman at her mercy, but willingly, desperately, passionately. _Lovingly? No. Stop. Focus. Make her beg you.

_Emma heard the swishing of steel in response to her call, smelled the metallic blade gently gracing her cheek and felt its cold surface sending dangerous shudders down her trembling body._

_"You're a certified dyke, Madam Mayor," the restrained Sheriff teased lustily, breathlessly. Bravely. "A Swiss Army knife? Really? Where do you even keep that thing, your fanny pack?"_

_"Not at all, dear," Regina responded, chuckling dangerously, swiping the knife dangerously close to Emma's jugular, drawing blood just under her ear. Emma barely heard her through her own groaning as the brunette continued, "I can suck a dick just as well as I can fuck your cunt, Sheriff. Although you're right, I do have a certain... desire - " with this she used one hand to grab Emma's hips and pull them back to grind into her pussy - "for women that I've never had for men... But as for your second question, _Ms._ Swan: are you really not creative enough to come up with an answer?"_

_Emma groaned again and pushed her ass more securely into the Mayor's pencil skirt, trying desperately to focus on how incredible this intoxicating woman was forcing her body to feel, not on her heart's inexplicable desire to turn and kiss the maddeningly sexy woman gently, heal her, save her, lo - _No. Stop. Focus, Swan. _She smirked in satisfaction as her grinding elicited an exquisite moan from Regina's throat, a sound that was not quite a sigh but not quite a groan, not quite a purr but not quite a snarl. Whatever it was, it was the most erotic sound Emma had ever heard..._

"Mom?" The sound of her son's voice jerked Regina violently out of her reminisce, extinguished the flame between her legs and the war in her heart like hail on a worldwide forest fire.

"Yes, Henry?" she responded, hoping her dry mouth hadn't cracked her voice enough for Henry to notice.

"I forgot to bring a towel in. Mary Margaret keeps them in the closet on top of the stairs. Can you please get one for me? I'm cold."

"Of course, honey," Regina answered, glad her son was unable to see the flush on her face, the sweat highlighting the scar above her lip, or the memory that she could see so clearly of what she and his other mother had been up to in the very bathroom that he had just showered in, dripping and, apparently, towel-less and cold.

She jogged up the stairs and a shudder ran through her as she remembered that time on the stairwell. She'd never recalled any of her sex affairs - _because 'love affairs' certainly isn't an applicable term_, she told herself - with such vigor and persistence before... this. This woman.

_You're Henry's birthmother? _

_Hi._

How much lower her voice became when she was challenged, refused to back down, fought back. How much higher it grew when screaming her name in bed and on various other surfaces.

_It's only because she's connected to Henry_, Regina told herself firmly. _She gave birth to Henry. That is the only connection I have with her, other than a desire to keep her and the havoc she reeks out of Henry and my lives._

But when Henry's hand poked out of the door for the towel; when he emerged moments later, hair in a wet frenzy above his head; when he gave Regina a twisted smile and thanked her for bringing the towel to him, she found that she could only think of his mother standing in that same spot, the spot where she'd fucked her for one of the last times before she got sucked into the portal, the spot where the blonde had trusted her not to end her life with the knife they were pleasuring each other with, the spot where she had suppressed the feelings that were now pouring into her, forcing herself to focus just on the sex, the body of the woman, supple and strong, bent over, tangled in a twist of a leather jacket, in front of her... wondering what her son's mother would look like in a towel, blonde hair sopping, casually happy to see her, sharing a home together.

_I really must be losing my mind_, Regina thought to herself as she returned Henry's smile, forcing normalcy into her voice as she asked him what he'd like to do with the rest of the day.


	7. Ch 7 (In Which Henry Skips School)

"What do you mean, what do _I _want to do with the rest of the day? It's a school day. I thought you were going to send me to school."

He watched Regina's face as she fought with herself. He pulled his t-shirt over his head silently, waiting to see whether she'd back-track into business mode, retracting her question and sending him to class, or to see if she would - for the first time in his memory - endorse him missing a day of school when he wasn't ill.

"Well, seeing as it's already quite late in the day, I thought we could spend some time together." Her eyes searched his face, desperately trying to keep the loneliness and pain out of her voice. "Unless of course you'd rather go to school..."

He registered her fear: he had secretly skipped school so many times to see Emma. Her heart would break (again) if he chose school over her, given that this was the first time she ever offered him a free day off. To spend time with her.

His face broke into a smile. "Wanna play whack-a-mole?" he asked, his grin and the puppyish eagerness in his eyes almost eerily resembling his birth mother's.

Regina eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, her eyes wide with a combination of gratitude, relief, and utter annoyance. _Of all the things he could have chosen to do... Well, at least he chose... me._

"I... can't say that I have much experience with arcade games, but I'm sure you're a wonderful teacher, Henry." She found her bemused expression becoming an enormous, genuine smile as he darted forward, charging into her waist, his still-sopping hair dampening her vest as he threw his arms around her. He retreated before she had the chance to recover from her shock and fully return the embrace, but she felt the fibers of heart heart braiding themselves back together from the power of his affectionate touch. He hadn't voluntarily touched her since Snow gave him that damned book. They'd had difficulties before then - since he found out she'd adopted him - but he had still embraced her before coming to know her as the Evil Queen. But then, he was certain of her identity now, and still he had hugged her. It had felt as healing as magic could. She felt a tingling on the spot where Emma had touched her arm, creating the magic that made the hat work. _The most powerful form of magic is true l.. No. Ridiculous._ She brought herself back to the present.

She turned to find Henry hopping on one leg, pulling on his left sneaker, one arm of his jacket on, the other dangling precariously. His foot caught on the hanging sleeve of his half-on coat and he stumbled. Regina blazed forward and caught his shoulder. He looked up, sheepish. "Thanks," he said.

She smiled. "There's no rush, honey. One shoe, then the other, then your jacket. It doesn't have to be all at once, now. I highly doubt the arcade is going anywhere." She was more pleased with his eagerness than she was letting on. She slid her suit jacket off of the back of the chair, suppressing memories of walking through the front door to see Emma sitting there, elbow deep in a broken microwave, not asking any questions about the blonde's apparent destructiveness as she pulled her up out of the chair and into her arms, searing her mouth with a violently passionate kiss, wordlessly warring out that afternoon's argument with their tongues.

She strode toward the door.

They set down the stairs together, Henry chatting as casually as the remaining awkwardness and tension would allow about 'the most important things to remember about whack-a-mole.'


	8. Ch 8 (In Which Leroy Threatens Regina)

He was just at the point of explaining to Regina the need to focus her eyes right above the panel, so that she could see all the holes at once - the better to whack the moles back down as soon as they began to emerge - when they were blocked from crossing the street by a particularly grumpy-looking Leroy.

Without warning, he grabbed Regina just above the elbows, pinning her arms to her sides, pushing her with perhaps not-so-surprising strength into the nearest lamppost. "What have you done with the Prince? How did you get your hands on Henry, you evil - "

"Leroy!" Henry's high, panicked voice emerged from behind the dwarf, "Stop it! Let her go, it's not what you think it is!"

"Oh, Henry, it's exactly what I think it is," Leroy growled, without taking his eyes off of Regina's, pushing her anew into the post. "She's cast a spell on you!"

"No!" Henry tried to explain.

He watched the hatred pouring through Regina's eyes as she glared at Leroy, a deceptively cocky smile twitching on her lips. She gave her fear away only through the clenching of her fists, which were shaking. At least, Henry hoped it was fear, not rage.

"Leroy, listen to me! David had to go do sheriff stuff this morning, so he asked Mom to watch me! We're just going to the arcade. Call David if you don't believe me! Just please, let her go!"

Regina's eyes, without wavering, watered as she heard little punches, meant to distract rather than to hurt, landing on the back of Leroy's arms, pushing and pulling, trying to unlatch the dwarf's hands, one of which was now creeping up to her throat, from his mother's body.

Shocked by the physical assault, Leroy lessened his grip. He grabbed his phone and dialed the Prince. After a brief conversation, he hung up and slowly lowered his hand from Regina's neck, where it had remained while he talked to David. Regina's eyes had not moved from his, but she hadn't said a word.

Leroy turned to face Henry. "Henry, kid, I'm sorry - I just thought - "

"Only Emma can call me 'kid.'" Henry murmured. He looked up into the older man's eyes. "You're supposed to be good, Grumpy. Good finds stuff out first, before it does anything that might hurt anyone. You should know that."

He sighed. "I do know that, Henry. But this is the Evil Queen!" he ended emphatically out of the side of his mouth, jerking his thumb unnecessarily in Regina's direction.

"Yeah, she is. I get why you're suspicious of her. But she's still my mom. I don't want her to get hurt."

Leroy stared at Henry, nonplussed. Then he took a step back and bowed slightly. "Enjoy your time at the arcade, your highness." He clapped him gently on the shoulder before turning, hesitantly, to Regina.

He opened his mouth and closed it again at the look of smoldering anger on Regina's face. He backed away and set off towards the mines without another word.

"Are you ok, Mom?" Henry asked, his voice rising to a higher pitch than normal.

"Of course I am, Henry. I'm accustomed to more efficient attempts on my life than that pathetic - " She paused at the genuine alarm in Henry's face, and breathed, trying to let some of the anger leave with her exhale. She blinked. "Thank you for what you did, Henry. You were very... _noble_." There was a long pause as Henry smiled and bounced momentarily on the balls of his feet, relishing being called "your highness" and "noble" by two different people within the space of a minute. "Like your mother."

Henry opened his mouth to ask her which of his mothers she had just called noble, but Regina was already striding off in the direction of the arcade. Henry jogged to catch up with her, a suddenly irrepressible, Emma-like grin solidifying on his face.


	9. Ch 9 In Which Regina Plays Whack-a-Mole

As it was a school day, the arcade wasn't particularly crowded. Henry took Regina's hand - she almost giggled with delight, hidden behind a small smile - and steered her towards the machine with the most obnoxious music. He replaced his hand with a poofy mallet, his eyes a-glow. She had always refused to 'engage in such a frivolous activity' when they used to come here together. He was immensely pleased just to have the mallet in her hands.

"So, it's simple, Mom. Just... whack the moles as soon as they pop up. Uh... do you want me to go first to show you how?"

"I've reduced countless enemies to dust, Henry; do you really think I need a demonstration to understand how to defeat a mechanized arcade game?" Regina deadpanned. Her voice gave away her amusement, though, and Henry just smirked and shrugged, consciously choosing not to think about the pure truth behind Regina's assertion. He slipped in the coins and the machine shuddered to life, complete with the annoying sound effects that he imagined sounded nothing like an actual mole.

He tried not to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of the image of his mother, eyes as determined and focused as they became when analyzing difficult town budget reports, grasping the play mallet with both hands and, with somewhat jerky movements that seemed out of sync with her usual grace, whacked mole after mole back into their holes.

He watched her thin-lipped expression become a smirk as she successfully fielded the first round of rodents, complete with musical fanfare. _This really isn't so bad_, she thought, some of her dread of being embarrassed by an inability to conquer a silly arcade game beginning to dissipate.

Henry almost collapsed with laughter as he watched her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in determination, as the plastic rodents began rising faster and faster out of their compartments, two at a time, three at a time, on different sides of the playing panel. The Evil Queen widened her stance, setting her high heels more firmly into the ground, bending slightly at the waist to give herself more whacking range and leverage. Her cheeks grew crimson with effort as Henry cheered her on through his laughter, a sound she had not caused in far too long, and her heart sang even as a curse escaped her lips when the animated mole sounds cackled her defeat.

"That was great for a first try, Mom!" Henry said eagerly, hoping to keep her engaged despite - or because of? - her perfectionism, as the high score screen cycled on above. Henry's face fell as he glanced up at it.

He looked cautiously at his mother, whose eyes were locked onto the screen. Her brow furrowed and she raised one eyebrow. In first place was "Sheriff Swantastic." Second place was "Henry," and various plays on Emma's name (including, annoyingly, "SaviorSwan") occupied all the other slots.

Regina glanced down at her son, her eyes full of an emotion neither of them could quite get a handle on. "Please, Henry, tell me that _you_ came up with these ridiculous pseudonyms, rather than a grown woman."

Henry's eyes shifted from one side to another, the edges of his mouth twitching.

Regina rolled her eyes in (mock?) superiority. "I honestly don't know how that woman claims to be your mother when she's such a child herself."

Henry's smile vanished and his face grew pale.

"A _joke_, Henry. I was trying to be amusing. I obviously failed, I'm sorry." She touched his face with the hand that wasn't still holding the mallet.

"Sometimes Emma whacks me with the mallet. She says it's because I look like a mole and she gets confused," he said in a small voice, full of affection and mingled with grief and fear.

Regina smiled despite herself, briefly losing herself in an unbidden image of the three of them at the arcade together, laughing, teasing, playing, touching casually, enjoying each other as a family. She put the mallet down and took her son's face into both of her hands. "I miss her, too, Henry."

Henry looked up, a happy sort of shock in his face.

Regina continued, "If for no other reason than that it would be immensely enjoyable to watch her face and her hear whine while I utterly obliterate her high score."

Henry giggled deeply, picking up the mallet and thrusting it back into her hands.


	10. Ch 10 (Emma's Back & Wants to Play)

It had been a relatively quiet few weeks in the newly-developing Swan-Mills household. Cora's threat had been defeated, Emma and Henry had forcefully beaten down the resurgence of a thirst for Regina's blood, Regina and Emma had confessed their newly-realized love, and while Storybrooke was once again safe, the nightmares of the newly-formed royal family were still being played out daily in their minds and hearts.

Henry had only recently stopped being plagued by his nightly trips to a fiery netherworld; was adjusting to having two parents to love (and to discipline him); and was slowly acclimating himself to the idea that he was not alone in his beliefs, that he was not out of his mind, that one of his mothers had truly been a mass murderer but was such no longer. Regina was still reeling from the finality of her mother's loss (she had destroyed herself rather than be subjected to Emma and Henry's insistence on mercy) and to Daniel's second goodbye; still adjusting to empathetically considering other people - like that pixie-haired wench and her husband - _stop it!_ - in her everyday decisions; and still spinning from the sensations that accompanied truly loving and being loved, for the first time since her teenage years. And Emma was still coping with finding her parents, with accepting that they had given up everything for her rather than given up her for everything; coming to terms with loving the woman who murdered a man as he kissed her, had murdered the man after whom she named their son, was the reason she had spent her young life in the system; and constantly reliving the sound and sensation of blade digging deep into flesh that was already dead, protecting herself, her mother, and their new friends from what had felt like certain death at the hands of people whom, a day before, she had seen laying massacred in careless, blood-soaked piles.

It had been a quietly difficult few weeks, but all three were at the same time happier than they had ever been: they were together. A family.

And one Saturday morning, Henry awoke early and did something he had not done in years. His fuzzy-slippered feet pitter-pattered across the cold dawn floor to the room that was now not Mom's, but Moms'. He hesitated slightly at the door, wondering momentarily if they would be mad at him if he woke them, if they would say he was too old for this. _I don't think they even believe in "too old,"_ he thought to himself, satisfied, knowing that both his mothers were made of fairy tales, as he gently nudged the door open.

The rising sun illuminated the figures of his mothers, delicately intertwined: Regina's face was buried in Emma's tank-topped breasts, her arm curled around the blonde's stomach, their legs as tangled together as the blankets at the foot of the bed. One of Emma's hands was on Regina's silken-clad hips, fingers disappearing slightly under the fabric. Her other arm was nestled under Regina's shoulder, curling around in sleep to rest on her vulnerable and strong back.

Henry paused in the doorway with his head tilted to one side. _True Love must keep you warm_, he thought, as a shiver ran through him, just imagining sleeping with the blankets kicked down as they were. A stabilizing joy flooded his heart and he smiled deeply as he reflected that his parents were in love, that they made each other happy. _Good always wins_, he thought, _doesn't really explain it. Maybe it's really that there's good in everybody, if they just have someone to understand them_.

Remembering why he had come to their room to begin with, Henry tiptoed into the room, removed his slippers, and climbed onto the bed, trying to gently wedge himself between his intertwined mothers. Emma was the first to groan, and she opened her eyes, squinting in sleepy confusion at their son.

"Henry," she croaked, slipping her hand out of Regina's nightwear and moving her body so he could lay down somewhat, tenderly shifting her lover's head from her chest onto her arm. "Wazzamatter?" she wanted to know.

Regina sighed into wakefulness. "Did you have another nightmare, honey?" she asked, blinking sleepiness out of her eyes.

"Nope!" Henry whispered cheerfully. "I just wanted to cuddle with my moms. I didn't mean to wake you, but you were sort of stuck together!"

The groggy women beamed at each other sleepily, Regina with tears flooding her chocolate eyes, over their son's head. They scooted closer to mold themselves to his body as Emma used her legs to skillfully lift the fallen blankets back within grasp, tossing them over her child and her lover.

"Iz so early, you little nut," she grumbled happily, kissing Henry's head and snuggling him under her chin as she stroked Regina's arm, which was around his waist.

"I know," he said gleefully. "I was thinking we could re-start Henry's Choice Saturdays!" he announced. Emma, amused but nonplussed, glanced again over his head at Regina for an explanation.

"When Henry was small," she began in the most adorable morning voice Emma had ever heard, "every Saturday was Henry's Choice Saturday. He picked when we woke up, what we ate, what we did, whom we saw." Emma snorted affectionately at Regina's semi-conscious commitment to grammatical precision.

"Alright, kid, so waddaya wanna do today?" Emma smiled, her eyes closed happily.

Henry giggled and lifted his head, gesturing for Emma to bring her head down to him, which she did once she opened her eyes and saw his movements. He whispered happily into her ear.

Emma's eyes flew open. "She did _not_!" She looked at Regina with mock horror as Henry shook with laughter. "You were busy beating my whack-a-mole record while I was off fighting ogres and giants in Fairy Tale Land? No fair!"

Regina rolled her eyes affectionately. "Really, Ms. Swan, it wasn't quite so difficult to beat."

"_Wasn't difficult to beat, my_ - " she glanced down at Henry as Regina raised her eyebrows in playful warning. "- shirt," Emma finished, humorously abashed.

Regina snorted.

Emma grumbled: "Rematch. Today. It's so on."

Regina rubbed her knuckles lightly across Henry's hair, a habit she had picked up from her lover. "You little trouble-maker. You're going to force me to make your mother cry when I break her record again," she said lightly as he leaned back into her and laughed

"You with your little pencil skirt and mayorly blouse?" Emma teased.

"Me with my pencil skirt and mayorly blouse," Regina winked.

Henry reveled in their obvious affection for each other, their intimate knowledge of how to rile the other up, their radiant love for him.

Poor Happy at the arcade didn't know what he was in for today.


	11. Ch 11 (Regina Wears Jeans)

"Kid, dunnint Happy not open the arcade until 10?"

"Mmhmm!" came the cheerful, if muffled, response from the tiny body cuddled between them.

"Well, waddaya wanna do 'til then?" Regina shook her head with a soft smile at Emma's morning voice, her own eyes closed lightly in contentment.

"This," Henry murmured, sounding so much like his adopted mother when he sighed, scooting himself up to nestle under Regina's chin while wrapping Emma's arm more securely around him.

The three didn't move, each dozing lightly, contentedly, reflecting on their feelings of safety and - _could it be? _- happiness, until Henry's stomach growled loudly. Emma's joined his, though she claimed it was Henry's. Even Regina's stomach, it seemed, had more dignity than her two loves', as the trio reluctantly disentangled from each other and emerged from their warm bed, Henry and Emma eager for a warm breakfast and Regina ready for a warm shower.

* * *

Henry bounced on his toes in anticipation as he and Emma waited for Regina to emerge from the bedroom. Emma was a night showerer - _I need coffee, not a load of water all over the place, to wake me up_, she would explain - so after Henry's rushed shower, the two indulged in a delightful mixture of sugary cereals that Henry knew Regina kept stashed away in a high cabinet. Emma thoughtfully made Regina apple-spice oatmeal - one the the breakfasts she managed not to burn - while Regina showered and dressed and while Henry jabbered away about how excited he was to go to the arcade with both of his moms, regaling Emma with stories about the last time Regina and Henry went together.

Emma dropped the spoon she had been using to ladle Regina's oatmeal into a bowl as the older woman stepped into the kitchen, one hand on her hip as a slim-fitting v-neck outlined every curve and stopped, perfectly positioned low on her waistline, where her jeans tapered in heavenly fashion down her flawless ass and legs, finishing with black heels poking out from the bottoms. Emma absently dropped to her knees to clean the spilt oatmeal, but her eyes didn't leave Regina's body. Having only moved in a few weeks ago, the younger woman was still quite unused to the sight - the _vision_, she sighed dreamily in her head - of Regina Mills wearing jeans and shirts that weren't business-wear and made of silk.

Regina cocked an eyebrow at the blond, trying and failing to conceal the immense joy she drew from Emma's reaction. She had sworn off clothing that could even remotely resemble boy's clothes to a sexist observer when Daniel died, swearing that he was the only one who would ever find her worth their time in such attire. Raising Henry had necessitated her having items like jeans and t-shirts around the house, but she didn't make it a habit of wearing such things outside the house. Emma's obvious delight in her dressing down, however, lit up her heart with memories of Daniel, memories of being truly loved for all she wanted to be, instead of all someone else wanted her to be.

Emma's face tinted red with a combination of delight and embarrassment and she dropped her eyes. scooping up pieces of oatmeal, muttering. All Regina and Henry could make out was "made you breakfast," "jeans," "effing heels," and "not fair." Henry glanced, bemused, at his mother, and Regina winked at him before smirking at her lover.

"When you're quite finished cleaning your mess, Ms. Swan, I'll eat whatever remains of my breakfast and we'll be off. I believe I have a game to win."

"Whoa there, lady, you said you'd beat me in a pencil skirt and mayory blouse thing. This is cheating!" Emma squeamed indignantly.

Henry giggled as Regina retorted. "I already have, dear, so indeed I can again. If you'd like to help me get out of these clothes, I'd be happy to - "

"Okaaaay, Moms, can we go soon?" Henry chimed in, having learned in the past few weeks that when one of his moms employed that tone of voice with the other, his parents would go into their room, lock the door, and be a while. Quite a while.

Emma sighed in mock angry. "You're lucky I like you in jeans, Regina," she murmured as she leaned over the brunette to toss the fallen oatmeal into the garbage, giving her bum a playful tap out of Henry's eyesight. Regina ignored it, for Henry's sake, but for a lustful flash in her eyes and a slight smirk, both only detectable to Henry, who was busy pouring them all organize juice anyway.

"Thank you for breakfast, Emma," Regina said softly, seriously, as she say down in the chair her lover had pulled out for her. "But don't think this means I'll be going easy on you today, _Sheriff Swantastic_."

* * *

Regina - who was laughing at one of Emma's quips moments before - hesitated tensely before starting out the door. She still wasn't accustomed to walking outside to all that open disdain, and frankly, it terrified her to be among so many people who would have killed her if not for her lover and son, who were living reminders of the horrible things she'd done. And to be going out into all of this in jeans? Her fancy, impeccable clothes had become her armor. She didn't quite know what had possessed her when she got dressed this morning, knowing they were leaving the house... Perhaps it was her instinct to dress down on Henry's Choice Saturdays...

Emma and Henry interrupted her thoughts and fears, each slipping a hand supportively into hers. "You're not doing any of this alone, Regina," Emma said sincerely, and she could feel Henry nodding on the other side of her. Regina fought back tears as she smiled her gratitude, giving both their hands a squeeze.

"Except losing," Emma added lightly.

"Alright, Swan," Regina deadpanned. "Let do this."

"You're so going down, Mills."

"We'll see about that."


	12. Ch 12 (In which GRUDGE MATCH!)

Henry almost shivered in anticipation as they walked through town, hand in hand, Emma only taking breaks from goading Regina about whack-a-mole to stare down townspeople who couldn't quite seem to close their mouths or keep their eyes off the site of the Savior, the Evil Queen, and their son strolling down the street, holding hands, and laughing up a storm. By the time they got to the arcade, Henry was quite glad that looks couldn't actually kill.

As Regina got coins from the change machine, Emma interlocked her fingers and extended her arms, cracking her knuckles and pretending to stare at the whack-a-mole set-up rather than at the former mayor's denimed ass. She was an awful pretender, and Regina shifted her hips back and forth in mock impatience. Winning this was going to be easier than she thought. She'd almost forgotten just how simple a task distracting her lover was.

As Regina sauntered over and bent down to slide the coins into the whack-a-mole slot - being careful to wink seductively at Emma before doing so, reveling in Emma's obvious and unashamed arousal at her in the closest thing she's worn to her preferred riding gear since Daniel died, Emma's mouth went dry at the proximity of Regina's ass, covered by nothing but denim and - Emma had quickly learned - a thong. Sure enough, as the former mayor "accidentally" dropped the last coin and bent further down to retrieve it - _bitch _- her shirt hitched up along with Emma's breath to reveal a sleek, deep purple g-string. Everything but the magnificent woman in front of her was erased from Emma's mind. The whack-a-mole theme song suddenly blared as Regina slid in the last coin, jolting Emma out of her combination of bedroom memories and fantasies, all centered on her Queen.

Henry stepped between them, clearing his throat royally - aware of the peeking eyes of some of his friends from school and their parents from around other arcade games - and formally presented both of his moms with a mallet, his back ramrod straight as he selected 2-player mode. "Let the grudge match begin!" he announced from behind his moms, so loudly that it made Happy jump from behind the prize counter. "No cheating!" he added, and Regina turned around, offended. But Henry was looking square at Emma, his eyes sparkling and his mouth in a line that deeply resembled Regina's. "Watch it, kid," Emma warned jokingly, not taking her eyes off the board, waiting for her first mole to pop up. She glanced at Regina, who had turned away from Henry with a delighted smile, which now became a focused game face as she, too, braced the mallet in both hands, heels sprea slightly beyond shoulder-width apart, rocking slightly back and forth in preparation as though she were playing tennis. Emma chuckled.

"Amateur," she muttered, just loud enough for Regina to hear.

"So cocky," Regina quipped back as she whacked the first mole of the round.

Their scores flew up almost in exact tandem as sweat began to drip from Emma's forehead, am ore graceful sheen appearing on Regina's. The women's shouts rose as two, three, four moles at a time began to pop up, mocking them with their chipmunk-esque cackles. Henry tried his best to narrate the game as Emma quickly slipped her jacket off after the first two rounds, both of which Regina had narrowly won. Regina glanced at the sheriff's bare arms and licked her lips, missing her first few moles of the round as she watched, entranced, as Emma's bare muscles flexed with effort.

"Go, Mom, go!" Henry's shout awakened her to the game, and Regina whacked at her moles with renewwed vigor while shouting at the blonde, "No playing dirty in front of our son!"

"Says the Queen of playing dirty!" Emma retorted. "Like you really _dropped_ that coin earlier?" She snorted, slamming mole after mole furiously as a crowd began to form around them.

Happy, Jefferson, Grace, Michael, Hansel, and Gretel all gathered 'round, the parents and kids having had the same idea as Henry: spend a morning of amusement and normalcy together after the violence and upheaval of the past few weeks and twenty-eight years. None but Emma and Henry found it normal, however, to see their formerly Evil Queen in jeans and a v-neck, sweating as she whacked plastic moles with a mallet next to her woman lover, with their son happily cheering her on, tousling Hansel's hair playfully as he smiled shyly while they waited for the next round of moles to pop up.

Gretel pondered the woman who had separated she and her brother from their father, wondering how the blonde who had reunited them could _love_ her, as she clearly did. The young girl laughed in bemusement when the former Queen smacked the Savior's ass playfully after the younger woman celebrated winning a round, obnoxiously jumping up and down and smacking - but gently, she observed - Regina over the head with her mallet. A tingling arose in Gretel's belly as she fully recognized in that moment that Henry's moms were lovers. She was glad that her dad and Jefferson were becoming close: _maybe they would become lovers and be this happy too_, she thought. She laughed with muted and slight vindictiveness as Regina screamed while Emma cackled, the young woman having taken the lead in the round.

Emma unabashedly wooped in victory as she won the fourth round, too - barely - egged on by their new audience and having been given a head-start by Regina's staring at her arms. She's spent the first two rounds thinking far too much about Regina's ass and laughter and sexy arms and Henry's playful betrayal to focus on her moles, but focus she did, and she drew a tie in the game.

Final round. Brown eyes met green as both women wore nearly identical smirks.

They tore their eyes away from each other - somehow - and began the final round, Henry jumping up and down, clapping his hands and shouting encouragement to Regina as she pulled ahead.

Jefferson chuckled to himself as the children all joined Henry with renewed vigor in the noise-making department. He leaned against the pinball machine, crossed his arms, and studied the way Regina's eyes lit up whenever Emma shouted at her and she trash talked back; whenever Emma shouted, "Whose side are you on, kid?!" to a son who was clearly supporting Regina; the way the older woman's tongue stuck out slightly from the side of her mouth as she concentrated, arm muscles twitching beautifully as she tossed her head back and laughed, game over, raising her mallet in victory and giving several mock bows and curtsies to the children. He had watched this woman change from an idealistic, wide-eyed, kind-hearted young girl into a broken, malicious, vengeful young woman. He had helped Rumpelstiltskin manipulate this very change in her. And as he watched her laughter and competitive playfulness, the earnest excitement bubbling forth from her entire being, the frivolity with which she bounced back and forth as she hugged Henry and teasingly stuck her tongue out at Emma as she joyfully typed "The Evil Queen" into the first place high score slot, he knew he had been right about Emma Swan: she truly had brought magic to Storybrooke.


	13. Ch 13 Play Date with Jefferson & Michael

Emma was spluttering in disbelief at her loss as Regina tossed her arms over Emma's shoulders, resting her forearms on either side of her neck, playfully swinging her denim-clad hips and softly asking the blonde what her reward would be. Needing desperately to avoid surrendering to her feelings - which very much involved taking Regina then and there on the pinball machine - Emma glanced over her gloating lover's shoulder at Henry, who was animatedly talking with Gretel, Hansel, and Grace. She found herself sufficiently distracted, having never seen him happy to interact with people his own age before. Regina followed her gaze and was smiling when she looked back at Emma, who was giving her puppy eyes. An unspoken conversation passed between them until Regina said out loud, "Absolutely not. Their parents would never allow it!"

Emma pouted effectively and almost whined, "Yes, they will! Look how happy they all are!" Regina looked back at the children and sighed. It _was _Henry's Choice Saturday, after all.

* * *

Michael laughed as he watched his children tease Emma, bounding up and down with excitement, diverting their attention from the women when the former Queen stepped into the Sheriff's space for some gloating flirtation. He noted quietly that Gretel, while chatting happily with the other children, kept sending curious glances in the women's direction, filing it away so he could ask her about it later. His little girl was slowly approaching the cusp of adulthood, and he wondered what the women's physical affection was making her think and feel. He glanced towards Jefferson, who was still leaning against the pinball machine, staring at the Queen. A twinge - _was it jealousy?_ - shot through the mechanic's body as he stepped closer to his new friend.

Jefferson nodded his acknowledgement of Michael's proximity without taking his contemplative eyes off of the women. "Copper for your thoughts?" Michael asked as the Mad Hatter shifted his ass so that the Woodsman, too, could lean against the arcade game. The right corner of Jefferson's mouth twitched up, but his eyes were still far away.

"I held her in my arms like that once," he stated without preamble, indicating Regina with his head as Emma had wrapped one arm securely around her shoulder, one around her waist, as the former Queen leaned into her while talking with the children. "I think I was there when she really became evil. I helped do it to her."

Michael was silent. His friend portrayed little emotion with his voice: he was simply reporting facts, and the Woodsman found he could listen forever. "I never thought I'd see that light in her eyes again. Love. Hope. I guess that's what saviors are for, huh, Woodsman? Second chances? Redemption from madness?"

Taking a chance, Michael tilted his head to rest it on Jefferson's tall shoulder. The Mad Hatter jumped a little and looked askance at the contact, but momentarily relaxed into it. "She gave us all our second chance, Jefferson. I guess it's only fitting that she give it to the Queen, too. The Queen could have killed my children. And me. But she almost cried when I told her that you don't abandon family." This time, Jefferson fully jumped, twenty-eight years of madness returning to his eyes, his neck muscles. Michael thought quickly. "You didn't, you know." Jefferson stared at him. "Abandon Grace. Just like I didn't abandon my children."

"She needed her father," Jefferson forced through gritted teeth.

"So did mine," Michael responded softly. "But I still would have left them again if Emma didn't call me that night. But hey - we're together now, right?"

The Mad Hatter searched the Woodsman's eyes for multiple meanings to his last sentence. Thinking he might have found one waiting there, almost shyly, he smiled.

Neither man noticed that Gretel had nudged Grace, both watching their dads with excited anticipation. Henry had helped his moms get together: maybe a collaborative Operation Rabbit could get their dads together, too...

* * *

"Children!" Regina called, wrapped in Emma's arms. The kids quieted down immediately, still instinctively fearing rebuke of disobedience at the sound of the Queen's voice. "If it's alright with Henry and your parents, Emma and I were wondering if you'd like to have lunch at our house. I'll make Henry's favorite pizza, and I'm sure Henry has many games you would enjoy playing."

Emma squeezed Regina tightly, affectionately amused by how regally she had issued her invitation to a bunch of pre-teen children. Henry launched himself into Regina's torso in a tight hug and the other children turned around at their dads, who had clearly not been listening.

"Papa," Grace piped up tentatively, and Jefferson immediately stepped forward and knelt before her, still reveling in hearing her voice. He had looked, for all those years, without once being able to hear.

"Yes, Grace?" he asked, eager to accommodate.

"The Queen - " Grace frowned and started again. "Mayor Mills - " she hesitated.

Regina stepped forward and smiled softly, regret hiding behind the curve of her lips. "Regina is just fine, dear." Jefferson awed at how much younger her voice sounded now. Again.

Grace nodded and opened her mouth to continue, but Hansel stepped up to Michael and cut her off. "Regina and Emma invited us to their house for pizza and games. Can we go, please? Henry says his mom makes the best food!"

Regina smiled but kept her eyes downcast, almost ashamed to look at either Michael or Jefferson. To her surprise, Michael agreed readily. "Sure, Hansel. Just make sure you say thank you."

"Ooh, Pap, I can go too, can't I?" Grace piped up. Jefferson kissed her head and nodded at her.

Regina cleared her throat softly. "You're both... welcome to come, as well," she said to the men. She connected eyes with Jefferson for a long moment. Michael and Emma tensed and Hansel absently reached for Henry's hand, who took it.

"Jefferson," Michael said softly as the Mad Hatter's eyes searched the Evil Queen's face. She was meeting his eyes with the hope and regret that she'd offered the world when she was a teenager, not the cool, vengeful defiance she'd honed as an adult. His lips twitched upward. "It would be an honor... _Regina_." He considered, adding genuinely, softly: "Thank you."

Regina grimaced a smile as he stepped away, the children resuming their excited gibbering and gathering of their things, still talking about the grudge match. "Thank _you_, Jefferson," she murmured quietly, though no one heard her but Emma.

* * *

Hansel and Gretel openly admired the splendor of the former Mayor's house as they walked, open-mouthed, through the foyer. Michael flushed with embarrassment, but Emma touched his shoulder, leaned in, and whispered, "Smaller place, less to clean!" He smiled at her solidarity as Henry led the troupe of children upstairs to his room.

Ever the archetypally perfect host - and feeling more comfortable now, on her own turf - Regina took the men's jackets and hung them in a closet off the foyer, offering them drinks ranging from cider to seltzer to rum. Jefferson settled on a scotch, Michael on seltzer, Emma on cider. Say what you want about this woman and apples, but her apple cider really was the best Emma had ever tasted. In oh so many ways.

As the excited sound of feet scrambling gleefully overhead droned on, Regina poked her head out of the kitchen, already done up in her apron, after Emma had brought the drinks out.

"Henry's favorite pizza involves nearly every topping known to exist. Do you or your children have any allergies?"

Jefferson smiled ruefully as Michael shook his head. "Oddly, Regina? _Mushrooms._"

Regina squinted, trying to ascertain whether Jefferson was taking a dig at her, being honest, or both. "Well, I always did say that the fungus market didn't quite suit you, dear," she responded with coolness, but not unkindly. Michael's eyes stayed glued to Jefferson's face as the Mad Hatter sipped his scotch and considered Regina. He leaned his head back on the couch, still staring at her. Emma suppressed a wave of anxiety: though he seemed much happier with Grace back in his life, she couldn't shake a feeling of seep-seated fear when it came to the man.

"Need help in the kitchen, Regina?" she asked, partially to fill the silence and also because she didn't like the idea of lazing with the men while Regina made them all food, no matter how much she knew her lover loved cooking.

Regina raised a seductive eyebrow at her. "You'll only distract me, dear."

Michael and Jefferson smirked. "Someone's whipped," Jefferson teased.

Emma and Michael both smacked him in outraged delight as Emma told him to shut up. Regina's voice echoed sensuously from the kitchen. "No use denying it, dear. He _is_ correct. And you _love_ it."

* * *

Several hours, six homemade pizzas, full bellies, and a few alcoholic buzzes later, four adults and four children were sitting barefoot on the floor in the den, screaming excitedly as Emma, Grace, Jefferson, and Hansel zipped around the various worlds of Mario Kart 64, Jefferson laughing hysterically as he slammed on the breaks before the finish line to let Grace zoom past him.

"Papa, that's not _fair_! I want to win on my own!" Grace pouted, laughing. Jefferson leaned his face happily into hers.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to beat you next time!" he teased.

Regina glanced at Michael, learning across the floor to whisper in his ear as everyone else jostled for controllers in the next round. He was staring, a distant smile on his face, at Jefferson, who was enthusiastically handing over his controller to Gretel.

"He's quite a devoted father, you know," she whispered. Michael reddened slightly, realizing he'd been caught staring, but somehow pleased that he had been.


End file.
